


Thunder Rolls

by Whiskeyjack



Series: Wolves of Ranulfr [3]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Battle report, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Genestealers - Warhammer 40000, Space Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskeyjack/pseuds/Whiskeyjack
Summary: Geirr leads his pack to a military outpost in hopes of finding some allies. What they find is much less palatable.





	

Geirr’s ceramite boots pounded on the cracked tarmac, echoing forlornly. The Astra Militarum base was eerily empty, even though the weathering on the crumbling buildings indicated that it had been abandoned for quite some time. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he felt like someone was watching them.

A squad of three Thunderwolves padded behind him, quiet despite their hulking size and the added load of their Astartes riders. Five Blood Claws followed behind them, their eyes eagerly darting around, and Geirr could smell their enthusiasm. These young Wolves were by no means unblooded, but they had only seen a handful of fights, and were still raring to prove themselves. The memories and songs from their old tribes back on Fenris would still be fresh in their minds, not yet tempered by the forge of many great battles, and they wanted to live up to the legends they had heard growing up.

Ranulfr had sent them to check out the base in the hopes of finding some Imperial Guard allies, after a terse conversation with the administrator of Vitellius Prime, who was not at all helpful. He and the detachment’s other Lone Wolf Skaegr had been listening in on that vox transmission, and it bristled him to see his kin being treated like an annoyance. Ranulfr conducted himself better than he would have, under similar circumstances, and in cases like that it made him glad that the other man was in charge and not him. The Space Wolves were well known for their explosive tempers, but it wouldn't sit well to antagonize the leader of the people they were trying to save.

His ears pricked up from the sound of a truck in the distance. Scanning the horizon, he spotted it, a mining truck that was slowly making its way toward them, navigating through the debris with ease. There was a bunker ahead, which blocked sight of their left flank. He sent a Thunderwolf and two Blood Claws in that direction. They disappeared from sight as the truck stopped in front of them, and Geirr’s stomach churned when he saw that the troops coming out of it were cultists, armed with an assortment of shotguns, mining lasers, and assault rifles. His keen eyesight picked out the telltale forehead ridges of Genestealers, and he howled a warning to his brothers.

The two Thunderwolves stampeded to the right, and suddenly they were ambushed by Purestrain Genestealers and a Brood Lord! They scrambled over the broken barricade like it was nothing, the Brood Lord climbing deftly on the walls of the parapet as it headed toward the Thunderwolf closest to it.

It charged the wolf, its screeches piercing the air as it extended its talons. The Thunderwolf sidestepped easily, its rider thumbing the grip of his chainsword to turn it on with a whirring scream. He slashed sideways, the teeth of his sword slicing through flesh, sending a flurry of black blood flying. The Thunderwolf’s jaws closed around the torso of one of the Genestealers, ripping it open and tearing its guts out, moving on to the next one. They swarmed over the wolf and its rider, claws ripping through fur and ceramite, and powerful though the Astartes was, he was no match for their pure strength in numbers.

The Thunderwolf behind howled in fury, its rider and the Blood Claws behind him joining their voices in a sorrowful song. He charged forward into the fray, and soon suffered the same fate as his fallen brother. Their sacrifices were not in vain however, as the Brood Lord was slain, and the two Thunderwolves together had taken out over half of the Genestealer force. But there still remained the cultists, and they had begun to take aim with their weapons.

Geirr howled his fury, and charged at the nearest figure. Its pale face twisted in surprise and it raised its shotgun to try and shoot him, but the Space Wolf ripped it savagely apart with his chainsword. His fangs bared, he brought up his storm bolter and fired it point blank in front of him, felling another cultist as he leapt toward the others. Swinging his chainsword, he caught them in a vicious arc, severing limbs with little effort. Cultist screams filled the air as his brothers followed him into battle, their boltguns and chainswords combining into a sweet symphony to his ears.

Two of the Blood Claws fell to Genestealers; one of them having been punctured through the eye by a creature which had tackled him, and the other having his throat slashed mercilessly with razor sharp claws.

Suddenly a Thunderwolf howl rang out in the distance, and Geirr saw a fountain of blood erupting from the back line of the cultists. He heard the thundering of paws and the whirr of another chainsword, and saw that the last of the Thunderwolves had come to reinforce them. Its rider sliced through the cultists like a deadly hurricane, and soon became a blur of blood and fur. 

Another two howls rang out, and two Blood Claws leapt from the parapet above to land on the mining truck, their ceramite boots crushing the metal upon impact. They each lobbed a grenade into the open cockpit, and struggled to get clear. There was a deafening boom, and he saw them get thrown in opposite directions, then a feral yell as the truck reversed backward onto one of them.

Geirr began to panic. He knew that it was unbecoming of a Space Wolf to feel hopeless in such a situation, and so he tried to slow his breathing and heartbeats down, but the screams of the Blood Claws around him only served to remind him of when his previous pack had fallen, leaving him as the only survivor. His vision swam, clouded with rage and pain, and he gritted his teeth so hard that it drew blood, a thin line of it trickling down his chin.

“Pull back, brothers!” He yelled over the vox-net. The Blood Claws knew better than to protest; they could see that their number had dwindled to less than half. The last Thunderwolf barrelled through the remaining cultists, picking up the Blood Claw that had been thrown aside in the blast.

Geirr had never been a fervent worshipper of Russ or the Emperor, believing that they were nothing more than exaggerated legends, if they even existed at all. It was a heretical line of thought, for certain, and one that he was very careful to keep to himself. But in that moment, he uttered a prayer to them, in the hopes that they might get away, and return safe to retrieve their fallen brothers. 

**Author's Note:**

> Space Wolves vs Genestealers, game played on 25 Jan. (We had a break and went to London lol. Bought a lot of 40k there actually...) Pretty close game, but Genestealers won.


End file.
